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Thursday, 30 December 2010

New Year's Eve

Lets get straight down to it, New Years Eve is the shittest night of the year! Every year I dread the inevitable anti-climax of the celebration of the date going from the 31st to the 1st...big fucking deal. The build up to the event fills me with dread, as does the incredibly unsatisfying macabre countdown that traditionally concludes this celebration of time (which in no way reflects the actual age of the planet). These are my main reasons for hating this celebration of insignificance;

New Year's Resolutions- "Ohhh in the new year I'm going to stop smoking, go to the gym 3 times a week, work harder, kick my crack habit....blah blah blah." The only significant event to occur is merely an increase in the calendar year by 1...changing lifestyle choices and habits is incredibly difficult, and attitudes do not simply change overnight. You are subconciously lying to yourself, denial ain't just a fucking river in Egypt! Also, waking up looking like a crackhead, still basking in last nights sordid shame is not exactly a good start is it? I give it til February when the realisation that your new years resolutions have been unfulfilled hits you...and I bet you don't give a fuck!

Jools Hollands NYE Hootananny- If you are sat tapping your toes to this on New Year's eve, then it is a sign that you've probably given up on life, and wish to be slowly ear fucked by an ensemble of jazzy cretins having a jam that'l have your slightly drunk socially repressed uncle rocking in his seat. I can't think of anything worse than watching Paul Mccartney smugly singing Hey Jude with Tom Jones and Cliff Richard, while Jools Holland wankily jazzes things up and Harry Enfield and Lenny Henry play the fucking tamborine...GROSS! Another particularly cringeworthy aspect of this show is that it isn't being broadcast live, and the countdown is completely staged. Watch as these BBC PG rated smugsters attempt to recreate a convincing reaction to the stroke of midnight...what a bunch of mugs!

The Final Countdown- This is the moment I dread on new years eve! The final 10 seconds of the year are spent with a room full of excitable people shrieking numbers as if they are in some way significant. As the clock strikes midnight the room morphs into a room full of broken records, repeating the words "happy new yearrrrrrr.....happy new yearrrrrr" over and over until they are cheapened and insincere.

The Final Countdown (when you're single)- I feel that this warrants its own bullet point, as the final countdown is significantly more awkward and traumatic for single people. For some reason there is an unwritten rule that you must have somebody to kiss at the stroke of midnight, and if you fail to achieve this objective you should feel depressed, and subsequently moan about how shit it is to be single. If you are one of the lucky ones that finds another equally desperate singleton....you will have an instantly regrettable grope with a complete stranger, that is only with you due to the mounting social pressure of the midnight kiss.. which will probably result in instant glandular fever or herpes. Good for you!

Nothing will change tomorrow!- Why do people think that something will magically change when they wake up in the morning? False optimism plagues people around new years eve, who trick themselves into thinking that last year's dissapointments, tragedies, break ups, embarrassments and regrets will somehow be reset at the stroke of midnight. I'm sorry to break it to you, but this will be another unpredictable year of ups and downs...there will be good times and horribly shitty times....but no amount of false hope can change the events of the future. OMGZZZZZ 2011 IS GOING TO BE AMAAAAAZINNNNNG.....(probably not).

Considering we've had 2010 year's worth of New Year's Eve, you'd think there would be a better system! My suggestion to avoid this anti-climatic event is to stay indoors, turn off the TV, put your head under a pillow and go to bed at 9pm. Until then, I hope you can squeeze some fun out of this tired tradition.